One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(11)

Eyes focused on the ChapStick and then back to mine. “You brought me ChapStick? Is that because you think I need it? Do you think I need ChapStick that bad that you came all the way to my place of work to give me some? Are my lips really so horrible to look at that not another minute could go by without bringing me some lubrication?”

I hold back the smile that wants to beam brightly. “Did I say ChapStick?” I shake my head and reach into my back pocket. I pull out my wallet, shuffle through it and grab the only piece of cash I have.

A one-dollar bill.

Perfect.

That was sarcasm in case you didn’t get it.

“A dollar? You brought me a dollar?”

I’ve dug my grave, might as well lie in it. “Yup.” I hand it to her. “Go crazy.”

She presses the dollar between her fingers, not buying it, but still playing along. “You’re so kind. I don’t think anyone has ever come to my place of work just to give me a dollar.”

“Sweet, right?” I rock on my heels, hands in my pockets now.

She chuckles and shakes her head. “The absolute sweetest.”

“Does that mean if I ask you out on a date, you’re more likely to say yes now rather than no . . . thanks to the dollar?”

Okay, not the best way to pick up a girl, bribing her with a one-dollar bill and used ChapStick, but I’m a little out of touch here. Hockey has consumed me for as long as I can remember, not granting me much time to date. I’m slightly rusty, a little awkward, and a whole lot of nervous.

“You want to take me out on a date?”

I nod. “Would love to.”

“And if I say no, do I have to give the dollar back?” The smallest of smiles tugs at the corner of her lips.

“The dollar is yours regardless. Consider it a friendship dollar. Whatever happens between us, that dollar is yours to do with whatever you want.”

“Wow.” She brings the dollar close to her chest. “The world is my oyster, think of all the possibilities.”

Fuck, she’s funny.

“So, is that a yes?”

She tilts her head to the side, the ponytail swaying with her movement, the long strands like a wave of chocolate behind her.

“Did you tell Racer you were doing this?”

“No,” I answer immediately.

“He has no clue you came searching for me, harassed a receptionist, and offered me a one-dollar bill?”

“Nope.” I shake my head, my lips pressed into a thin line. “If I told him, I would have asked for your last name and the hospital you worked at so I didn’t wander around different hospitals looking for a girl named Adalyn with brown hair and killer legs.”

“Ooo, killer legs, I like that.” She winks at me and stuffs the dollar in her bra strap. “Let’s say I were to say yes, what would your date entail?”

Eh, fuck, I haven’t thought that far ahead.

“It’s a surprise,” I answer, feeling smooth.

She shakes her head knowingly. “You have no clue what we would do for a date.”

Chuckling, I go for honesty. “Got me there, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Twisting her lips to the side, heavy in thought, she clutches her lunch bag and says, “Racer can’t know.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

“You don’t want Racer to know?”

She shakes her head. “No, he’ll make a big deal out of nothing, and I’d rather not deal with that. Are you good with keeping this from him?”

Am I? Not really, he’s a good friend. But then again, we don’t necessary tell each other everything.

But he did tell me to stay away.

But . . . killer legs.

I think the choice is obvious.

“Yeah, I can keep this between us.”

“Excellent. Hand me your phone, I’ll plug in my number. You’re in for one hell of a ride, Hayden.”

I can’t fucking wait.

Hayden: How was the rest of your day at work?

I twiddle my thumbs on the couch, looking around the cottage, unsure of what to do with my time. Normally, I’m working out, or doing drills, or preparing for a game, or squeezing in a few more reps in the weight room. So this free time is throwing me for a loop.

And Mr. Lockwood doesn’t believe in the Internet or television besides a collection of mafia movies on VHS, which are stored under his small tube TV.

But there is a variety of playing cards in a drawer along with Boggle, Scrabble, Sudoku, and colorful puzzles. I started one of the puzzles last night, and it’s already kicking my ass. I thought the landscape I picked out was going to be easy, but boy, was I wrong. A one-thousand-piece puzzle is no joke. I barely have the border done. But that’s also because I can’t find two edge pieces, and it’s driving me crazy.

So I put the puzzle on hold and started playing Scrabble, player of one.

Let me tell you, I’m really good at playing myself. HAY-den is really smart with his moves, and Hay-DEN is a free-balling kind of player, goes with the flow, no thought in his moves whatsoever.

Can you guess which Hayden won?

But I can’t complain about the peace I’ve been granted staying in the cottage. It’s been comfortable, stress free, besides the constant phone calls from my publicist. I finally told him to email me everything or else I’d let him go because the constant badgering was getting on my nerves.